


Shoes

by Princessfbi



Series: Secret Screaming Series [1]
Category: Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessfbi/pseuds/Princessfbi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His clothes felt too tight around him. He was suffocating. Anders didn't want to be here. This wasn't fun. He was cold and his feet were freezing. Mike. Mike had shoes. They were too big, Anders had small feet, but they would fit. The wolf whistle sent him rolling onto his stomach with a groan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

You can always tell about a man's character from the shoes he wears. Mike wears shoes like himself. Thick boots that had treads on the soles to give him traction. Grounded. Mike was the rock of the family unlike their parents who were unsturdy and unpredictable as the wind. He was a good man. Worn and tired from having to raise three younger brothers carrying the secret of their family for each of them. Anders had resented him for it when he dumped the family secret on him. He had been seventeen when their mother left and fully capable of taking care of himself but Ty and Axel were kids. Just because he was Bragi that meant he had to shoulder the burden as well? No, Anders was going to get out as soon as he could. And he did.

Anders wears shoes as well. Leather designer boots that came to his ankle held up by a zipper.  _Designer_. Several cows died a great death to make Anders shoes. But like everything else in the world they were to compensate something. The heel gave him a bit of height and the black leather hid his small feet. He hated his feet. They were dainty and completely disproportionate to the rest of his body. And they get cold incredibly fast. Ty liked poking fun at it all the time and Anders had the sneaking suspicion that his brother was partially involved somehow.

But not this time. No, the only excuse Anders had was the wind and absolute miserable rain that had been spitting from the sky all day. He hissed in pain as he stepped on something that pinched on his bare feet. He bent down to check if he was bleeding but the vertigo was too much and he was crashing onto the ground knocking a trash can over. He knew he shouldn't have had that drink. He hadn't seen where it was from and he only knew a face with no name. He should have known better. Part of the downfall, though Anders usually saw it as an upturn, was mortals were attracted to himself and his brothers abnormally so. It was discreet but Anders didn't mind. The attention he drew just from walking into the room or just having a person catch his eye... It was intoxicating.

His stomach churned and he curled inward holding his arm close to his chest. There was a crash and a cackle from down the alley and Anders felt the pit of fear began to naw at his insides. His feet were cold. He hated when they were cold. Where had his shoes gone? A catcall screamed down the narrow passage and Anders gasped in surprise. He tried to push himself up but the trashcan he had been using gave under his weight sending him crashing to the ground. Maybe he could just lie on the ground for a moment. Something was poking him in the leg.

He remembered when Mike had first gotten his powers. He didn't know at the time but it was the same. Their father left them, their mother left them, and for a time Mike had left them. Oh yeah, that's right. Mike wasn't always big brother extraordinaire. He was too busy relishing in his new powers. He played games he could never lose leaving Anders and Ty to fend for themselves. Axl was too young to remember. But Anders did and he couldn't easily forgive like Ty could. It was only fair Anders got his chance when he turned twenty-one. He was allowed to have fun.

His clothes felt too tight around him. He was suffocating. Anders didn't want to be here. This wasn't fun. He was cold and his feet were freezing. Mike. Mike had shoes. They were too big, Anders had small feet, but they would fit. The wolf whistle sent him rolling onto his stomach with a groan. The thing poking his leg, it could help! He struggled to find his pocket and when he found it he could have cried for joy because when he sunk his fingers onto the sleek cover of his phone it felt cool against his palm. More calls sent him trying to pull himself along the ground but he couldn't go anywhere.

His brothers hated him. He hadn't talked to them for weeks maybe even months. What did he care? He was free. Free from the weight of responsibility, free of having to carry the burden of raising a family. He could fuck anyone he wanted, drink whatever he wanted, and do whatever he wanted.

They didn't want him around and he didn't want to  _be_ around.

Yet the phone rang through the speaker and a loud crash coming closer and closer sent Anders curled into a ball in the shadows.

"What Anders?" Mike always answered his phone. Anders didn't. And Anders could have started to cry by the sound of his voice. Maybe he was. Anders could get anyone to reveal their secrets to him and he knew well enough to know when people were trying to manipulate him. But the only person who could to Anders was himself.

"Mike…" His face was wet. His feet were cold. He hated when they were cold.

"Anders? What is it?"

"C'mon out!" A shout. A bang. A sound from deep within Anders throat that he wasn't even aware he had made until Mike's voice came through the phone again.

"Anders?"

Mike had good shoes. Messy shoes used for work. Shoes used to help others. Anders didn't help others.

"I think I messed up, Mike."

 


End file.
